


Requiem

by space_birdie



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Dream Smp, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 08:34:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30052746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_birdie/pseuds/space_birdie
Summary: Jack should be happy that Tommy is finally dead, so why do things feel so bittersweet?(Or, I can't stop thinking about the carrot scene from Jack's stream)
Kudos: 12





	Requiem

Jack couldn't say when the small seed of affection had been planted in his chest. It was easy to forget how his life felt like it had no purpose before his vendetta on Tommy; easy to forget how much of a struggle it had been to even pull himself out of bed in the morning or even complete menial tasks.

The disdain and anger that had tinted his world view had changed to a hesitant excitement at the prospect of what could happen tomorrow. 

Jack didn't want to admit it, but he was feeling better. His life had purpose again, even if it was as silly as trying to take Tommy's last life.

Just as suddenly as he had lost all of his belongings, this too had been ripped away. Tommy's death wasn't something he had ever expected to hurt. Celebrate sure, but the empty void in his chest weighed him down further than any armor could. 

It was silly, but part of him missed the manic cackling and insults that would be thrown his way at random throughout the day. Someone had stolen the last handful of puzzle pieces and what Jack had left didn’t fit right.

He spent a lot of time initially wandering the world, pacing between landmarks until someone would shoo him away. He didn't cry because Jack Manifold would never shed a tear for someone as rotten as Tommy Innit, but that didn't stop the crushing nights where the emptiness threatened to consume him.

In some ways it was easier to think that Tommy wasn't gone, that he was just on vacation and would come busting through the hotel doors with a loud shout. Jack knew he couldn't dwell in that hopeful fantasy though. 

When hunger gnawed at him on one of the days that he walked from place to place, he found his feet taking him to the home of Tommy. Chewing at his lip, he hesitantly opened the door with a creak and stepped inside. 

Dust covered almost every available surface and cobwebs hung limply from corners of the ceiling. The air was stale and musty, the drip of water from the basement the only sound accompanying him. 

"Christ," Jack muttered. It couldn't have been that long already. Tommy would be pissed at how messy everything was, though it wasn't like any of his belongings were tidy before. Jack shook his head with a frown. "Stop it, stop thinking like that. He's not- he's not coming back. It doesn't matter now does it?"

Jack spends a few more seconds by the door before slowly shuffling over to one of the chests. It's stuck, taking a bit of force to open that by the time it's just cracked he's panting from exertion. There's not much left, some blocks and rusting ingots piled haphazardly inside. His stomach growls and the idea of rummaging through each chest is pushed to the side for the time being. 

Jack fumbles his way down the dark stairs, torches having long since burnt out. It takes a few minutes before he finds what he's looking for. The farm is a mess; plants overgrown while no one had been around to take care of them and weeds sprouting up between large carrot sticks peeking up from the dirt. The water is dirty and has a thin layer of film across the top. 

He drops to his knees and begins to pull some of the crop up, tossing weeds he comes across in a pile near him as he works. Something comes over him and his original plan to just harvest a few going out the window as he loses himself in the work. Soon there's a large pile of carrots and the dirt is clear of any impeding weeds. 

Jack spots a bucket sitting empty nearby, scooping up the filthy water and carefully taking it outside to dump in the grass. It takes a couple trips, even more when he carries fresh water in to replace it. 

He’s halfway through replanting the carrots when he comes crashing into himself, dropping the bag he had been holding and sending seeds scattering across the ground. Jack scrubs hard at his face, pushing 3D glasses up to his forehead as he groans.

“What the fuck am I doing, why am I wasting my time on this?” He takes a stumbling step towards the stairs before stopping. “It’s not like it matters, not like he’ll need them.” The words get caught in his throat as he spits them out. Tears well up at the corner of his eyes as he glares at the floor. 

“It’s not fair that you just left ya know?” Jack’s chest aches as he clenches his fists and lets the anger and grief that he had been holding at bay swallow him. “You left behind so much, what the fuck am I suposed to do now? What’s Tubbo supposed to do? Sam Nook doesn’t even know for fuck’s sake. You had so many promises mate, you were gonna do great things. Now you’re-” His shoulders shake as he takes a gulping breath of air. “Now you’re gone, never coming back, and I don’t know what to do.”

The words echo in the forgotten basement as a small part of him waits for a response he ultimately knows will never come. Jack takes a shuddering gasp and lets his shoulders drop, the sorrow ebbing away until it’s nothing but a dull sting. Tears track down his cheeks and drip onto the dusty floor. It’s silent apart from his ragged breathing and the ringing in his ears. 

Jack gives a wet chuckle, covering his eyes with his hands before speaking. “You’d be tellin’ me off if you were here. ‘Big men don’t cry’ and all that.” His hands drop back to his side as he swallows thickly. 

He moves across the room in slow steps once the tears have stopped, seeds crunching underneath his boots as he scoops the bag close to his chest. Wordlessly he continues planting the seeds. He’s more careful this time, making sure it’s done properly and something even Tommy would be proud of. 

By the time Jack finishes his back aches and his fingers are caked in dirt. He trudges up the stairs, pausing at the threshold to look back at the decrepit room. 

“I’ll have to bring a mop with me tomorrow,” he mutters. Jack lets his eyes sweep across the room one last time before heading up the stairs and out the front door, carefully locking it behind him and beginning the long walk back to the Innit Hotel.


End file.
